Go To Sleep
by Fear The Pika
Summary: Sometimes the darnedest things happen when you aren't awake... A parody of KillerBuneary's "Wake Up" for his birthday!


Hey everyone, today is a special day. No, it's not my birthday, that was a while ago. No, it's KillerBuneary's birthday! Now I could have written something completely original for him, but then it struck me: why don't I parody one of his works? So that's what I did. (Yes, KillderBuneary is aware of this story's existence and has total veto power over it.) This is kind of the optional sequel to _Master Of Us All,_ it's written like it is, but it isn't really, it's a parody of _Wake Up_. Happy Birthday, Will. As much as this mocks you, hope you enjoy it. ;P

* * *

**Go To Sleep**

She awoke with a start the next morning, jumping to her feet. There was a small Rattata at her feet, rubbing against her boots like a kitten.

_He never showed and I fell asleep here, _she thought. _It's amazing that I didn't freeze to death._

She shook off the Rattata and exited the clearing and headed towards Viridian City; the wet, dying forest was depressing, only intensifying her feeling of disappointment. She stopped suddenly, remembering that she left her flashlight in the clearing, but something ran into her heel before she could turn around. She spun around, instantly in a defensive position, but relaxed when she saw that it was only the Rattata from before.

"Hey, buddy, are you following me?" she asked it. It was kind of cute, although it might not offer much in the way of protection.

A sharp pain hit her square in the back, knocking her to the ground. A wild Pidgey was attacking for who knows why. She looked up from her view of the dirt just in time to see the Rattata knock out the Pidgey in one attack.

"Wow, you're stronger than I gave you credit for, aren't you, little guy?" she told the Rattata as it dumbly bounced back to her. "You can follow me if you want, just don't drag down my pace."

Again the buck-toothed Pokémon surprised her and shook its head, albeit in a dumb little way, and ran off into the woods.

"Well that was strange… Wait, why am I talking to myself?" she wondered aloud. "I hope this isn't becoming a habit. Stop it!"

* * *

She exited the Viridian City department store with an armful of bags. She had bought items on a whim without any clue what she was picking up, and this worried her. The cashier, a blond-haired man in his mid-twenties, had been appreciative of all her purchases and pushed her to buy more, he probably worked on a commission, but it was unlike her to allow herself to be swayed by words. Should she get a checkup? No, she was just tired. A good night's sleep in the room she had rented would get her back to normal. But first she must eat. After stepping over a disgusting, vile, repugnant bum who was huddled over a piece of paper, she took her bags back to her hotel room and headed out for food.

She ordered her favorite food, gyoza, at a local hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and decided to spend the rest of the day researching more on Mew until nightfall. Not that there was much she did not know on the creature, and whatever resources Viridian City had could never match the library at Canalave City in Sinnoh.

After a long day, full of disappointment, she went to her hotel room and got ready for bed. The Rattata's refusal to travel with her ate at her, but she forced herself to ignore it. It was only a Rattata, after all. Not like there weren't thousands of other ones, unfortunately.

She slowly let himself fall into unconsciousness as the moon rose, and sighed one last breath before she was out for good. Tomorrow would be a better day, or at least a more consistently good one, she promised herself.

* * *

She woke up the next day to a radio alarm, at the unholy time of 6:30 A.M. Well, unholy by her standards.

"And our top story today is the brutal vandalism that has spread across Viridian City. We have with us the first victim, one William Turnip," the announcer said in a morbid voice. "Those who don't like hearing about property damage and marker drawings on faces should switch channels now, because this case is the worst police have seen in a year."

She turned up the volume, curious about how simple vandalism could be a top story.

"Anyway, William Turnip, to put it simply, is one of the deadbeats that sleeps on the street and attempts to write fiction for cash. He woke up in the middle of the night and saw a strange person running away from him. The bu-Will later found out that someone had drawn a pair of glasses and a mustache on his face in permanent pink marker."

She gulped down the saliva that threatened to flow over her lip. The bum was undoubtedly the same one she had stepped over. He turned out to be the first victim? That had to be a coincidence, right?

"Aside from this one insignificant case, almost every home in the city was broken into. Every picture, photograph and person had the same signature on their face: a pair of glasses and a mustache in permanent pink marker."

Breathing a sigh of relief, the woman turned off the radio and went to take a shower. Pink marker? That had nothing to do with anything she had been doing recently. She turned on the light, looked in the mirror, then let out a shriek that broke both the light and the mirror. Someone had drawn on her face. Someone had drawn a pink mustache and a pair of glasses onto her face while she had been asleep. Someone in her room while she was sleeping. Someone who could have done anything to her. She screamed again, pulled on some clothes, then fled the building, running all the way through Viridian Forest to reach Pewter City in a mere half hour.

All the people she passed were happy, which sort of annoyed her. But then again, _they _could go on with their lives without any thought to being drawn on by a vandal who was most probably more perverted than a Ditto.

* * *

She was looking through the window of a Pokémon Center that evening, wondering if there were any rooms left, when a short someone crashed into her, knocking them both onto the ground.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry. Are you ok?"

A tiny hand helped her up, and she saw that it belonged to a tiny, spiky brunette boy, who had bruises all over his body.

"I'm trying to beat my brother home, ya see, although I'm proving his point of not looking where I'm going…" he said, no noticeable drawl or accent in his voice.

"And who's your brother?"

"Are you new in town, or just stupid? Can't you tell from my hair that my brother is Brock, leader of the Pewter City Gym?"

"Little brat… Well go run off, don't let me keep you waiting. After all, I'm _sure _you have some other people to run into as you carelessly run back to your big bwother." she replied, annoyed at the insult and instantly hating the kid.

"I'm going to tell him to beat you up, you mean person! I bet you don't even have any Pokémon! I'm only 9 and I already do!"

And with that, the kid who proclaimed himself to be the brother of the gym leader dashed off again. If every youth was as much of a snot-nosed brat as that kid, then 2012 would really mark the end of the world.

Now in a terrible mood, she checked into the Pokémon Center, which did have room after all. Deciding to drown her anger with a few greasy burgers, she found where a local joint was from the nurse at the front desk and headed off there.

* * *

Once there, she ordered her usual meal, a hamburger with cheese, onions and nothing else, then sat down at a table to await her meal. She looked around at the room, which looked like it had been built at least 50 years ago, and face she had seen not 10 minutes ago caught her eye. Sitting at a table not far from her own was the kid that had knocked her down, and who must be Brock.

The kid saw her and his eyes grew wide as he tugged at his brother's shirt and pointed her out. Brock stood up and walked over with a malicious smirk, hands curled into fists at his side.

"I understand that you were rude to my brother earlier, is that so?" he asked, cracking his knuckles. The room fell silent and all eyes turned to watch the confrontation.

"Look, that _brat_," she yelled the last word so all could hear her, "is a public nuisance. Your eyes are closed and I bet you can see where you're walking, or running, better than he can."

"I'm going to give you until I open my eyes to leave the building. If you aren't gone by then I'll let my Onix dine with me, although his meal will differ from my own."

There was a collective gasp; apparently Brock threatening to open his eyes was not a common occurrence.

"Fine, I'll go eat somewhere else. The burgers here are probably as cold as this city anyway."

And then she was gone, quickly walking back to the Pokémon Center. She paused next to a store that proclaimed to sell all items of female apparel, only in pink. There was a dress for younger girls in the front window- bright neon-pink with lacy frills embroidered on the neckline and the bottom.

"I'd love to see that little brat in that…" she muttered. She made it back to her room and laid herself on her bed after carefully taking the sheets off.

"Maybe I'll go to Pallet Town after this, even though that means going through Viridian again." she said to herself. "Wait, no! Why am I talking to myself again! Stop it!"

* * *

She sat up in bed the next day, instantly alert. She knew that the vandal had struck again; she could feel the marker on her face. She got out of bed and grabber her stuff- she had not been bothered to get undressed last night, even to pull off her boots- and walked out of the sliding glass double-doors of the Pokémon Center.

And nearly peed her pants she started laughing so hard.

Chained to a tree to the side of the main road of Pewter City was Brock's brother.

Dressed in the pink dress she had seen in the shop yesterday, little pink bows in his hair and a pair of pink heels on his feet. He was squealing like the gender he was dressed as, begging for Brock to get him out of the chains.

Brock was, of course, ordering his Geodude to break the chain, but they could not do that without hurting the kid.

And right on the kid's face, of course, and Brock's as well, was the trademark. The pink glasses and mustache.

"Oh, this is too sweet!" she said, laughing hysterically. "It's nice to see that, as perverted as he is, this vandal has a sense of humor."

Brock rose to his feet, rage painted on his face. "It was you, wasn't it! I should kill you right now! He's lost his sense of male pride, now!"

"Wow, Brock, you're as stupid as your brother. As you can see, or could if your eyes weren't closed all the time, I'm a victim as well as both of you."

"Shut up now and leave my city!"

With a feeling in her stomach sweeter than Girl Scout cookies, she slowly walked away, trying not to laugh again until she was out of earshot. Then a thought struck her: how had the vandal known exactly which dress she had been looking at?

As soon as she turned the corner, she ran.

Ran from the city of Pewter.

Ran from the latest victim of the Pink Vandal.

Ran from the person who was oh-so-obviously stalking her.

She kept running until her legs collapsed under her, just outside the exit of Viridian Forest. She laid there for hours, unable to move, whether from shock or exhaustion she did not know. When she finally got to her feet, she walked as quickly as she could towards Pallet Town, only stopping to grab dinner at a Pizza place on the outskirts of Viridian City.

What had she done to deserve this? Why was this pervert stalking her? Well, she could guess why, but still… Where would be next?

Night finally came crashing down, and she saw that he was just a mile away from Pallet Town. She reluctantly decided to call it a day, confident that she could avoid any further contact with her stalker. Even though she did not want to go to sleep, her eyelids insisted, and she succumbed to the darkness without any consent from her mind.

* * *

"No! Please! Don't ruin my perfect face!"

She awoke to see himself staring into the desperate eyes of a man with hair whiter than an Abomasnow. He was leaning against a wall, hiding his face from something to her right.

She looked towards her right hand.

She was holding a pink marker that she had never seen before.

The marker was aimed at Professor Oak's face.

Showing surprising speed for a decrepit old man, the Professor darted under her arm and out the door, yelling over his shoulder,

"I'll get the police on you in no time, you vandal!"

"What the, wait, what did I do?" she yelled back, but she got no response.

"Oh, just a lot of vandalism and public humiliation of others, it's not a big deal..." a sardonic voice responded. It appeared to be coming from inside her head, and a yellow Pokémon holding a pendulum stepped out from behind a bookcase as the voice told her this.

"No, I really am going crazy! I'm hearing voices in my head!" she blubbered, until the voice spoke again.

"Shut up, slave. It's me who is talking! Ignore the Pokémon before you, it is just an illusion. However, it represents me."

"Slave!" she exclaimed, outraged at this statement.

"Correct. You humans are foul creatures and need to be shown that your precious property is not as sacred as you might think, so I tricked you into Viridian Forest with the help of a now-dead Ditto and used Hypnosis on you!" the yellow creature shouted furiously. "You cannot refuse my will!"

Her eyes welled up with tears. Here she was, running away from some stalker when it was she who had ruined so much property. It was bittersweet, especially when she thought about Brocks brother, although that still drew a quiet chuckle. She glanced down at the marker in her hand, then up at the Pokémon, who had a grin super glued on its face.

"Like heck I can't!"

She held up the marker to neck level, straight out in front of her, and took one last glance around.

In one clean swipe, he swept the marker across her throat, leaving a thick pink streak across her skin.

"Um, even I am a little confused…" the yellow image said. "What exactly were you trying to achieve there?"

She stared at the marker, then at the flickering Pokémon, then back at the marker.

"I don't know…"

She was still staring at the marker when the police came and read her rights. She stared at her right hand throughout the entire trial. She stared at where her hand was when she was forced into a straight-jacket and thrown into a padded cell. She was still staring when she finally died a week later from malnourishment.


End file.
